The Legend of Zelda: Wisdom Lost
by 7elda Chick
Summary: (Don't read! Sorry, but this story is giving me the hardest time... Hopefully, I'll update it in the summer, after I change it dramatically)
1. Chapter 1

_**Prologue**_

_****_"Tell me... Do you ever feel a strange sadness as dusk falls? They say it is the only time when our world insects with theirs... _..._The only time we can feel the lingering regrets of spirits who have left our world. That is why loneliness always pervades the **hour of twilight**..."

* * *

_**The Escape**_

_Chapter 1_

* * *

Princess Zelda was a fool, but an oblivious one. She had no idea what adversity her actions would cause. All she knew, and the one thought that consumed her to the uttermost was an internal prickle of dread and uncertainty, and it weakened her ability to separate feeling from fact.

From her youth up, Zelda had been the model princess—a wise and sensible young lady, not prone to bursts of impulse, but practicality, and prudence charmed her every motive. Her caring words and tone could sooth the most enraged heart, and her tender yet stately courtesy made her a pleasure and sport to all she met. Thus, no one in the castle or in all the villages would venture to suspect that their soon-to-be queen, the sapient and discerning, would vanish into the wan of night.

Yet, of late, a great travail had come upon Zelda, blinding her from the truth and willing her to act in a way unseemly to her repute. Each day it was drawing her closer to the verge of insanity. She grew distraught over small inconveniences and overwhelmed by spurious troubles, and her misjudgment slowly but surely began to annul her ethnics and abate her stability.

That night, her unfounded qualms had gotten the best of her. She found herself moved with an urge too great to oppress. Pressured by the encumbrance of her dwelling and guided blindly by an impulse, she fled her chamber. Finally, after sneaking past the sentries and cooks, Zelda emerged onto the empty veranda.

There seemed to be ice crystals lurking in the very air, for as Zelda made her approach across the garden, she was daunted by the jagged clout of the wind. Stopping a moment, she drew her fleece closer about her shoulders, shivering slightly.

Perhaps it was the rawness of the air or a misidentified reason, but her impulsive resolution was forgotten. She stared in a state of ecstasy at the beauty of the garden in which she stood, as the silver moonlight cascaded in oblong wisps over its lush vegetation.

A canopy of multicolored buds, closed in sleep, quivered as the wind danced upon them. Zelda took a step nearer and breathed in a long, soft breath. The freezing air filled her bosom, tingling in her lungs, and her nostrils flared in pleasure at the sweet fragrance of lilac and freesias.

The splendor of the moment dazzled her, and she ran her white-gloved fingertips down the frost-coated blooms of a wisteria vine. Then another bloom caught her attention, and she was drawn away from the canopy, toward the mysterious flower beckoning her attention. It was a rose—a red, red rose, its petals sealed in peaceful slumber after the long day of emanating allure, yet even in its fastened state, its beauty was not diminished. Zelda gazed wistfully at the blossom, afraid to touch it lest the rashness of her glove break its delicate form.

In the town over which she reigned, the people had begun to call her, "Shoshana shamayim," meaning Rose of Heaven, yet she refused to observe the title. Although she lived by the standards of the goddesses, she considered herself yet unworthy to be upheld to their supreme level. Now gazing at a portion of the rose's glory, she couldn't understand why the people would compare her to it, especially one blessed by the goddesses. She was only a young woman, nothing greater. To herself, her beauty was nothing to admire, and her values and conducts customary and proper, nothing more. Why, she fancied that the community would do just as well without her as under her allegiance.

Suddenly the rose wasn't as appealing to her, only another reminder of her imperfection. Turning, she glanced up at the castle—her castle, the place from which she had nearly departed a moment ago, fixed on hastening into the unknown.

The windows were glowing with the warmth of the hearth, and for a minute, she considered going back inside, but some unknown sentiment kept her still, gazing into the light of the kitchen window. She saw Margy, the baker, rushing about, her apron in a twist, her face red with exhaustion and the heat of the flame over which she toiled. Flour rising like storm clouds with her every move, she dove about, grabbing plates, spices, and sugar from off the counters. As she watched, Zelda smiled despite herself and took a step nearer the glass.

That's when she noticed Impa standing in the kitchen threshold. It was strange to see Impa up and about so late, especially bearing such a dazed countenance, and Zelda wondered what was bothering her.

Impa was a strict, demanding woman. If something was done in her presence, it was done the way she saw fit. Nothing escaped her keen eyes and ears, and she was strong—exceptionally strong for a woman of her stature. Not only was she bodily strong, but emotionally as well. Though Impa had endured crisis and felt hurt to a point even Zelda knew nothing about, Impa never fell under the weight she carried. Instead, she made good use of her burdens, using them as an incentive to work harder and stand straighter.

Although the fact of Impa's austerity was very much factual, Impa was never cruel, especially to her young charge, the Princess Zelda. Her love for Zelda was like love of her own child. Her duty to the princess, as a protector and nurturer, had become less of a chore and more of a privilege, now that she had served her obligation for over 20 years; but it didn't take those many years for Impa to learn to love her dear princess. From the very first, when she was introduced as guardian to the child what seemed ages ago, Impa had felt the first motherly affection she had ever known. Even now, decades later, Impa still loved Zelda and protected her as avidly as she had that first day.

Yet, love was hard to imagine beneath the apathy of Impa's gaze, and it took Zelda long to realize the fondness Impa had for her. Many times, Zelda had cried softly to herself when she was younger, weeping about how to get "dear Miss Impa" to love her, until one day Impa found her crying in the haystack and asked her what was the cause of such emotion.

"Why, Miss Impa, you don't love me…" the princess, only a baby girl at the time, had cried. Impa had been aghast by the accusation, and she had crossed her arms purposefully. She was never good at emotional, heart-felt speeches, but she tried nonetheless.

"Now you listen here, young lady. Whoever's been filling your head with lies such as these is going to get a good whipping by my own hand. So I suggest you drop these senseless notions and clean yourself up." Then, bending down nearer the weeping girl, she lifted her in her arms; and pressing her against her chest, she whispered fondly, "You know right well that I love you—love you more than I love my own life." At hearing this, the first kindly words Impa had expressed toward her young child, Zelda's heart was filled with rapture; and from that point on, she and Impa had shared a special bond.

It warmed Zelda's heart to look back upon those memories, but at the moment, as she gazed through the windowpane at Impa's weary appearance, even the thoughts of that pleasant retention provided no comfort.

Searchingly, she watched her protector, with gliding steps, make her way toward the puffing baker and begin a conversation. Being outside, Zelda couldn't hear what they were saying, but some unknown force made her believe she was the topic.

Impa looked concerned and hesitant, but Margy barely noticed, so preoccupied was she in her masterpiece. At first, Zelda was sure Impa had uncovered the absence of the princess's chamber, but on second thought, Zelda realized that if it were so, Impa would be looking for her, not explaining the situation to Margy. In fact, it was strange that Impa was talking to Margy at all. They were known not to be on good terms with each other.

Zelda focused her attention on Impa's lips and tried to read what was being spoken. Zelda had held hearings with many foreigners who had communicated with accents hard to understand. Instead of listening directing to them, she had learned to read their lips, and by now she was very skillful in the act. Concentrating entirely, Zelda was able to make out a few lines of Impa's speech: "It is close now… Have you seen it in her eyes? The day approaches, and my time on this planet decreases by the moment… " Zelda squinted, unsure if she was deciphering accurately. She paused a moment to close her eyes and let the warmth of their lids restore her vision.

When she reopened them, Impa and Margy were gone! Startled, Zelda stumbled toward the window and glanced around the entire kitchen, wondering if they were hiding beyond her view, but except for a dissipating cloud of flour, nothing was left as an indication of their presence.

"Zelda…" Out of nowhere drifted a soft voice, and Zelda jumped around to face the speaker, but no one was there. A chill latched onto her skin, and her breathing quickened.

"Fear not…" the voice continued, seeming to come from all directions, chiming like a thousand bells in perfect harmony.

"Who are you?" Zelda murmured, fear quivering her tone.

"Don't you know me—your own soul… Am I that faded from you?" The voice sounded hurt at Zelda's lack of remembrance.

"…Don't toy with me, spirit," began Zelda indignantly, though her face had gone pale. "What is your purpose?"

"My purpose…my life…is in you and has been since your birth…but one wishes to separate us…to claim me as his own… We must not let that happen…" The urgency and foreboding sense of the unknown speaker caused chills to run up and down Zelda's skin, and she felt feeble, like at any time she might collapse. Yet the bitter wind now swiping around her, upsetting her hair and cloak, kept her clinging tautly to consciousness.

"I don't appreciate this jest. Who are you?" she yelled vehemently into the air, tightening her fists and trying to trick herself into believing this was all a hoax, but after the ghostly voice spoke its next words, Zelda knew with complete certainty that this confrontation was no deception.

"…I am **Nayru**…" the voice expounded.


	2. Chapter 2

_**The Encounter**_

_Chapter 2_

* * *

Zelda fell to her knees in the midst of the garden, tremors of fear scaling and descending inside her deepest emotion.

"Forgive me!" she cried. "…I didn't recognize your voice…. I am a fool and not fit to be in your presence." She dipped her head down below her heart and waited to see what punishment her prier rudeness would produce, but nothing stirred in the dark air.

Months had left Zelda bereft of Nayru's company, and in that span she had heard neither word nor implicit direction from her. Still, Zelda was astounded that the voice of her own holy representative, as the voice of her own conscience, could be so easily forgotten; yet the goddess's voice was not alike to its previous version, being not as full and arduous, but shifting and quiet, like an echo reverberating from a chasm, miles away. Indeed, it was a strange quandary, and as Zelda waited to receive her chastisement, her heart began to regret ever stepping foot beyond her chamber door.

"Am I not a just goddess?" the voiced boomed out of nonexistence, making Zelda tremble uncontrollably. Unable to produce words from off her paralyzed tongue, Zelda made no reply. "Why don't you answer me, child? Are we not friends and I a just one? Rise from off the dirt, and fear no more. …The blame of your forgetfulness is not upon you, but the fault is that of an evil one who has come forth to strip us both of our authority…"

Zelda rose unsteadily to her feet and slowly lifted her gaze, though still, the orator's identity was hidden in the gloom so that she might not see it.

"What do you mean?" Zelda stammered. A quiet and unusually brisk wind whipped around her, bending the grass near her feet.

"You have slept many a moon in undisturbed peace, yet tonight, I fear the serenity of the time is far spent. You must awaken to your destiny once more, but you are not alone, as a hero must be accompanied, to please the prophecy. Arise you, and set out on your mission. Bring back to the castle, a hero garbed in green, and the abysmal fate of our union may be transformed…"

Zelda's brows furrowed as she listened, and as the voice again faded into a lengthy pause, she questioned, "What do you mean… I do not understand! What must I do? …What has happened?"

A peculiar noise, soft and dragging, lisped through the saplings, and Zelda wasn't sure if it was a waft of air or the goddess sighing.

"I suppose I must start from the beginning… " the ethereal voice continued. "Not long ago, a great evil was erected in the land, and with his power and vengeance, he smote the barrier between Hyrule and the Sacred Realm. A man of deep resentment and potent strength, he stole from the realm a sacred gift and is using it to ensnare the goddesses, weaken their essence, and steal their power. He must be stopped before he can transfer the power of my golden sisters and me to his body, or else our worlds will fall into demise, and he will be too powerful to restrain…." There came a slight pause wherein Zelda tried to comprehend all that had been spoken. Her heart beat rapidly, and she found it hard to focus.

"Look to your mark!" the voice thundered. "Do you feel it fading? …Has your gift of wisdom weakened?"

Suddenly, an inflamed sensation penetrated into Zelda left hand. She lifted it, and glowing through the backside of her muslin glove was a mark, the mark called the Triforce, but alas, it was faded!

Close to tears, Zelda shook her head, staring in unbelief. "It can't be!" she cried hysterically.

"Behold!" bawled the goddess, seemingly not to have heard Zelda. "My time on this earth diminishes… Our bond—our bond of wisdom slowly but surely dwindles as the evil one threatens to pull us asunder. Go, my dear princess, go and meet your glory… Alas, the pattern has begun yet again… Evil and good in endless war… Just remember, when in the heat of deepest affliction, when you don't know which way to turn, pray to me, and I will give you a sign of where to go… " As she spoke, her voice began to fade, and her last whispered words were, "Now go… Go and awaken the hero, and speak of this to no one…" Then she was gone, and the strange, unworldly feeling of being present with a spirit from another world vanished from Zelda, allowing her to focus with entireness now that the encounter was over.

As if in a trance, she gazed into the distance, the fiery warning of the wisdom goddess still undulating in her mind. The memory seemed already faded from her. Though she could recall most vividly the voice and words of the goddess, the entire happenstance seemed a dream, unreal and spectral, as if it hadn't truly transpired, only been imagined. Yet, if so, how could she explain it?

_"…Bring back to the castle, a hero garbed in green, and the abysmal fate of our union may be transformed…"_—these words echoed back through her gray cells, and her heart shivered with realization.

_The pattern…the plot of good and evil in constant war…_—Zelda contemplated to herself. _It's begun again! _Zelda shook her head, but the unwelcome thoughts would not subside.

She was aware of what the goddess meant by the fading power, and the peril a condition such as this would cause was not new to her. Yet, could it be true…?

She lifted her left hand again, and the glow of its glove was vanished. Taking in a deep breath, she gripped the fabric of the middle finger and slowly slipped off the muslin covering, exposing her pale skin.

It was too dark to see if whether her mark was indeed faded, but she took a step toward a willow tree in whose branches the moonlight was concentrated, and stuck her hand into the light. In the silver glow of the moon, the mark appeared, and Zelda gazed at it searchingly.

There came a moment of studious silence, wherein the eerie moan of the bitter wind whirling through some unintended fissures in the castle's foundation was the only noise to be heard, though Zelda barely noticed, so enwrapped was she in her inspection.

All of a suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, Zelda yanked her hand out of the light with a low cry, "It is true!" She slump to the ground in hopelessness, cold tears, more fear-driven than the result of grief, budding in the corner of her eyes.

She lingered bent down in the grass for some time, but when she arose, her face was calm and the indication of tears was absent. "Guide me, oh great goddess of my wisdom…" she murmured, slipping her glove back over the mark of her fading power.

Lifting her gaze, some bright wisp of color caught her eye, and she turned. Along the base of the castle's wall sat a bright pumpkin, glowing mysteriously. Aghast with the knowledge that she had never planted pumpkins in her garden, she glided toward it.

It was a beautiful, thriving pumpkin—a bright orange one, and ripened for picking, and it gleamed enticingly in the silver light. Zelda leaned down and noticed that it wasn't connected to a vine. She reckoned that it must have been misplaced by some distracted individual, but who would be wandering in her garden? Also, why was the plant propped aright, as if someone had set it there on purpose, and why hadn't she noticed it before?

Although her mind had been diverted from her former worry by the alluring plant, the goddess's important promise suddenly resounded in her mind.

_Just remember, when in the heat of deepest affliction, when you don't know which way to turn, pray to me, and I will give you a sign of where to go… _

Of a sudden, Zelda knew that this glowing vegetable was no usual pumpkin; it had been placed there by the goddess as a sign. Immediately, as though the words had been whispered in her ear, she knew where she had to go.

_Ordon pumpkins belong in the Ordon village_—she thought casually, as her eyes wandered upward. Behind the plant, the castle wall was shrouded in vines—vines large enough for easy grasping. _How convenient..._


	3. Chapter 3

_**The Departure**_

_Chapter 3_

Against all odds and the betterment of her judgment, a plan began to carve its scheme into Zelda's mind, and she, unaware, was following its leadership most unthinkingly. Stepping behind the mysteriously placed pumpkin, she grabbed a hold of the vines and heaved herself into a suspended position. Her feet found easy resting places upon the web of vegetation, and she paused a moment, as if just realizing what she was doing. Automatically, her eyes glanced back at her castle.

It would be rash and irresponsible to leave now, in the heart of night, without leaving a letter explaining her unforeseen departure. For a moment, while clinging hesitantly to the wall, she pondered her probabilities, but finally, with a sigh, she lowered herself to the ground and strode up the veranda, where she yanked open the heavy oak door and sneaked back to her chamber.

The pen and inkwell seemed to be expecting her, set out eagerly on her desk where she had left them, a broad unmarked parchment lying idly in front. A lantern fused to the far wall shed a flickering light upon her pale face as she delicately retrieved the pen from its vessel, dipped it gently into the ink, and after a low breath and a quiver of resolve, she with small, rounded penmanship, she began her dispatch.

_Dearest Impa,_

_Tonight, the Goddess of my wisdom beckoned me. She has given me a task which tonight I will undertake. Fear not my absence, but know that I am safe and in the care of the gods. _

_I will return to you safe in the morning. Until then, pray for my welfare._

_Your dear and faithful child,_

_Princess Zelda_

Zelda wished to write more—to explain fully her concerns and doubts, but she didn't want Impa to suffer a troubled, sleepless night because of Zelda's own distressing notions. Already, she felt the blame of her people's bewilderment, for she was certain that once their princess had vanished beyond their prow, they could endure neither sleep nor sanity. Yet what could Zelda do or say to suffice them? She herself would rather persist in the safety of her chamber, but a greater cause was bewailing her name as it were an innocent victim begging for mercy, and she could not ignore the heart-rending call.

Placing the pen back into its vial, she straightened her back and with eyes glistening with tears of insecurity, she indulged to gape around her chamber, as if it were the last time. The candle's flame flickered warily upon its melting throne, its faint light catching upon the walls and furniture.

Deep in Zelda's heart welled a fountain of feelings, drizzling into her soul, troubling it deeply. Two of the emotions were most prevalent. One begged her to stay in the shelter of her home and not wander into the clutch of external darkness and mystery; the other willed her to take a chance, brave the unknown, and follow the path of a hero. Both dueled against the other, deep inside in her innermost cavern, as two sinister Darknut soldiers, arrayed in black, fight for the right of passage.

Finally she turned away, and the desire to stay died within her, suffocating under the weight of her excitement. She knew her duty, and with trembling nerves, she withdrew her weapon from a plush-lined box below her bed and sneaked out to the garden once again, over to the alluring vines—her doorway to freedom.

The rubbery leaflets of the overhead willow tree writhed together, producing a sound akin to a desolate warble, as if it were pleading for Zelda not to go; and the moon, with his cavernous eyes and deliberate scowl, glowered feistily at her slim form as she pulled herself onto the vines, as if he might leap out of the sky and chase her back where she belonged, but Zelda paid neither one an ounce of her attention.

As she neared the top, the fibers of the harsh foliage pricked her vanilla-white palm, but too engrossed in the knowledge of how close she had come, she made no attempt to halt, finally heaving her body onto the top of the wall. For a moment, she gaped outward, even in the dark, knowing too well her location and how far she'd have to trudge to be free from the gates and guards. She saw the first set of guards, standing tall in their glittering armor, positioned on either side of the far gateway. They hadn't noticed her.

Whispering a prayer that was lost in the wind, she leaped from the top of the wall and landed upon her backside at its base. Standing hastily, she glanced forward, keenly listening to make certain whether the alarm had or had not been sounded. Except for the lazy slapping of the basin-sized fountain on her right, silence pervaded the air.

From the base of the wall, the guards weren't visible. A wide set of marble stairs leading upward separated Zelda from the guards who stood in the terrace, where the stairs led. To avoid being seen, she would have to use the overhead passage.

Knowing this, she swooped toward her left, where rose a wide turret, reaching upward into the heavens, even surmounting the roof of the adjacent building. Two torches burned quietly on either side of the oak doorway leading within. Like a phantom, she glided toward the door and placed a gentle grasp upon the metal knob which felt like ice against her palm. Turning it with care, she yanked the old door open and vanished within the small corridor.

Now the only light in this narrow room was a soft drizzle of moonlight pluming from the very top. To Zelda, she reckoned that the room was quite similar to a well, with a spiral staircase winding around and around until it reached the platform high above. Step by step she ascended, lifting her gown to the middle of her shins, being careful to make little sound and not misjudge a step in the darkness.

Finally she emerged onto a long open hallway. Taking another deep breath, she glanced across the expanse. There were four turrets like the one she had just mounted, two on the right, two on the left. Each was connected by zigzagging open hallways. Usually, these were used by guards to keep an eye on the castle, but since peace had reigned undisturbed for some years, they were hardly used.

Swiftly, she scampered across two of the corridors, her back hunched to avoid notice from those below. Reaching the left side again, she stole a glance over the rim. The ground was nearly black. Although, if she strained her eyes, she could, by the light of the moon, vaguely decipher the next turret, she wasn't able to make out anything beneath her. She couldn't have known where she was if she hadn't been so well acquainted with her location; but thankfully, she knew by heart that at the base of the turret she now occupied was a barred opening in the castle wall, separating it from the moat surrounding the fortress. Carefully, she descended the obscure stairway in this turret, emerging into an empty veranda shrouded in darkness, the wispy aroma of blossoms abundant in the air. Devoting her senses to listening, Zelda could hear the steady gush of water close by. By ear, she drew nearer the noise.

A few steps later, she found herself gazing between the colossal metal bars separating her from the open expanse of the world. The moon-lit sheen off the rushing moat glistened haughtily, and the beginning of land across the way seemed to be calling her name.

Knowing what she had to do, she removed her overcoat. The second she did, a freezing chill snaked up her body, making her teeth chatter. Spurred into a fast pace by the cold, she yanked off her cumbrous shoes, and with them in hand, she squeezed uncomfortably between the bars. Holding her articles up above her head, she leaped into the water.

Immediately, cold convulsions began to attack her skin. Her head bobbed up from below the freezing surface. She hadn't dropped her coat or shoes, but the very base of the coat had dipped into the water, soaking it completely. Since was useless to try to yank it out, she swam as quickly as she could across the wide moat without repositioning it. Even though the cold aching through her body befuddled her movements, she finally reached the land on the opposite side; and dropping the coat and shoes safely on the dry grass, she pulled herself out of the current. For a few moments, she lay there in the grass until she could catch her shallow breaths. Her insides squirmed every once and again, and as another freezing breeze swiped around her, her teeth began to chatter so exceedingly fast, she was almost sure the guards would hear them and discover her existence. Shivering, she crawled to her feet and draped the coat around her closely, though it didn't provide much release from the cold, and she rung as much water out of her hair and clothes as she could in a hurry and with incompliant fingers. Then she drew the shoes over her aching feet.

At that time, she loosed her sword from the strap looped around her belt where she had tied it earlier and held it readily in her right hand. It was a good sword fashioned by the best blacksmith in the town, with a gilded handle made to fit her grasp and a long, thin blade, strong and sharp and deadly. Even its weight had been perfected for her strength, enabling her to wield it easily. She had owned it for many years, and though she never used it other than in practice, she knew its capability.

The hilt felt cold like ice against her palm.

Thankfully, she remembered in her haste that a weapon of some sort was required to cross any part of the field beyond the castle walls. Hidden in the very soil of the field are creatures that will pop up without warning, attacking anything in range. She hoped that if she stayed close to the boundary of the castle, she would be able to evade the monsters.

Squinting to the right, Zelda could vaguely make out a small light illuminating the stony blackness. She fled in that direction, knowing it led for the outside drawbridge of the castle.

Carefully avoiding the edge of the water, she came around the corner of the castle and peeked across the moat at the mysterious occurrence happening on the open drawbridge. Every torch along the bridge was lit, and a group of guards, nearly ten or twenty of them, stood in their midst, detaining a man whose attire differed from those of the Castletown dwellers. He was standing before one of the guards, a horse and covered wagon waiting for him in the grass at the edge of the drawbridge. Zelda supposed by the way he was conducting himself that he was arguing with the guard and perhaps drunk.

She wasn't sure if it was luck or plain foolishness that had made the plan seem so accomplishable, but suddenly an idea sprang upon her. She crouched low and sneaked nearer the assembly. When she drew close enough to hear their speech, she lowered her body into the grass, pulled the black hood over her face, and crawled until she found herself right beside the covered wagon.

The horse's ears flicked back and forth tensely, as if he might have heard her approach, but he was either too tired or too old to turn to his large head and see whether or not his ears deceived him. Glancing across the bridge, Zelda waited for a good chance to make a stealthy disappearance into the wagon. She could hear the men's husky words dithering over the night winds.

"I…I…need to get in." It was the village man in foreign clothes speaking. His words were slurred. "I carry a message to the castle… You must let me in," the man pleaded.

"If you must enter, you'll have to wait until morning. This drawbridge is closed throughout the night and until the cucco crows tomorrow, you will not be entreated to your request. Also, if you pursue to holler and scream about it, we will have to personally remove you from the premises," the guard explained, sounding annoyed. A guard beside him yawned loudly. Zelda recognized the guard who had spoken. He was the head of the night surveillance squad, whose name was Regan. He had a closely knit relationship with the rules and hated disturbances quite like the one he was glaring at now.

"But I must enter… I have gone a long way and…have no place to stay the night. You of all people know of the dangerous skeletal beasts that appear after nightfall. Where shall I find safe passage?" the village man insisted.

"Not here, I am afraid. I recommend you travel back whence you came and sleep off your insanity. Perhaps in the morning you will come to rightful awareness." Without waiting for a reply which was surely to not agree with his answer, Regan motioned to his companions. Two grabbed each of the drunken man's arms and hauled him back toward his carriage. He dug his heels into the wood of the drawbridge and hollered curses into the wind, but the guards didn't reply nor halt their eviction.

Zelda's heart began to race in fear that they might discover her, and she stuck her nose into the grass, flattening herself with the hope that her black coat might fool them. After the guards dropped the sobbing man into the grass, she peeked upward and saw that the guards were returning to the castle and that those who had lined the drawbridge were dispersing. Breathing in a quick breath of sheer daringness, she dove into the covered wagon, landing in a pitch-black area. Immediately, a throbbing pain surged through her left palm, the one she pushed down when she had rolled into the wagon. After placing her sword on the side, she rubbed it with her opposite hand, and she discovered a warm wetness in the pained area; and there was no doubt that her hand was bleeding.

There was not much she could do about it or the freezing temperatures her body was withstanding. Therefore, she just waited for the man to leap onto his horse and take her away.

It wasn't long before the cart began moving. Zelda stuck her hands beside her to keep erect. As they turned, something, perhaps a bottle, rolled across the slanted floor, clanking up against Zelda's sword. She cringed at the noise.

When the cart began going straight forward, she cautiously crawled on her hands and knees over to the sheet surrounding the wagon, pulled it aside, and gazed outward. There was her home becoming smaller and smaller as the wagon drove further and further away—opaque visions of her childhood and the world she had once known diminishing, like a dream, into a realm most distant.

Suddenly a great nervousness churned in her stomach, and her eyes grew wide. _What have I done?_


End file.
